There was a part of me that wanted to throw away the tall stacks of old homework papers that were piled in the corner of my office. More than a years worth of two kids schoolwork adds up to a lot of paper cuts and huge pile of recycle. I know I should do this process once a week, or once a month, but I have given into the fact that it happens once every year or two for me. But in the end, there are always one or two nuggets of gold that make it worth it. In between the numbers & graphs, definitions and essays, I find some poetry & prose that give me insight into my growing and ever-changing kids, and occasionally a little insight on life.
Don’t forget to sift & search for life’s hidden treasures.
…I knew about this poem, but I came across it and others, by my daughter and my son, that helped me know them just a little bit better…
FREEDOM OF SPEECH
BY CHARLI ELLIOTT
I want to always rise to the
Challenge. I want to never sit alone.
I want to learn to talk and be heard.
I want to watch as the grass grows
Old and dies. Month after month. Year after year.
I want to see. If the moon can rise
Every night, I want the taste
Of freedom on the tip of my tongue
I want to touch you, dance with you on
A cloud made of light. I want to lose myself
In the labyrinth and rolling waves
Of your eyes. I want to free myself
Of hate. I want to be free from the shackles of freedom.
I want to be free, and free of freedom,
With its cold irons clasped on your wrists. Its
Frenzied thoughts, its open plains, and definition
Tied neatly with a bow. I want to be free of
Words without meaning and listlessness. My anger,
My loss and apologies, my doubt.
If the rain can cleanse the earth
I want a fresh soul. I want the stones wisdom
And the earth’s flexibility. I want the lights
Ubiquity, but not its invisible touch
I want the reliance of the sun, but not its fury.
I want the strength of the universe. I want to search
The rolling hills of elsewhere and find
You there. I want the tips of your fingers
In the small of my back. I want to be the tree
But not the leaves. I do not want to be the grass
I do not want to be the dew covered spider web,
Or the spider. When I leave this body
I want to be sheer power. I want to have a voice.